


No Use Crying About It

by cytryne



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Btw this is not likely to become common on my account lol, Dubious Consent, I've never written smut before so comments would be...much appreciated, M/M, Oral Sex, Torture, Trust me they count as two characters in this, Tyelpe has a really fucking bad time, smut is hard and scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 13:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytryne/pseuds/cytryne
Summary: Sauron forces Tyelperinquar to take a more active role in his own torture. Tyelpe just wants Annatar back.





	No Use Crying About It

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely related to “Wash Away My Colors”  
> Written in honor of quite possibly my favorite rp partner ever, whose Annatar was so delightfully fucked up

He burned everywhere he touched, wanting and hating that he wants. This is his enemy he’s responding to, the person responsible for his torture and the death of so many of his friends. The person who tortured his uncle until he was only a shadow of himself.

But he was also Annatar, and that made all the difference.

Tyelpe moaned at his touches, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes and imagining it was anywhere other than here, a time when Annatar was still just his friend and not his enemy. It was still just as intoxicating and if he could escape-if only he could pretend this was not real-he could escape the shame and self loathing this brought.

But Gorthaur didn’t like that.

He choked, unable to breath from the sudden pressure around his neck, and his eyes fluttered open. Sauron smiled cruelly at him, the expression looking wrong on the face he wore.

“Eyes on me, pet.”

Tearing up, he nodded what little he could, struggling to breath past that hand. Annatar—Sauron rocked against him and-to his utter shame-he could feel himself responding. It felt good and it shouldn’t have felt good.

“You were the one who asked for this and it hurts me that you aren’t enjoying it, Tyelpe. I might even be willing to leave those chains off after if you get past these silly hang ups.”

Tyelpe nodded quickly again, desperate and willing to do anything to breath. Sauron let go of his throat and he coughed, sucking in as much air as possible. The movements paused, an eyebrow arched at Tyelpe. The message was clear. He had to do it, or the Maia would be displeased with him.

One hand hesitantly moved from its position by his side to touch his chest, trying desperately to pretend the face and soul were one and the same. He could touch his lover, he couldn’t handle this much intimacy with a monster.

He moved slightly forward and kissed him, feeling the familiar curves of Annatar’s lips and face. This was okay, he could do this. This intimacy was normal. There was nothing weird happening. They were just in a different place than normal. There definitely wasn’t anything bad awaiting him if he failed to satisfy him. (If only he could fool himself into believing it.)

One hand looped around Annatar’s neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. The other slid further down his chest and felt for a gap in his clothes. Robotically following the actions, wanting the spark that had been there if only to make this simpler.

Annatar grabbed his wrist, and his heart skipped a beat.

Tyelpe broke the kiss, glancing up at Annatar for any sign of what he’d done wrong. He’d barely started, it couldn’t already be like this! He knew Annatar could feel his heart racing but he couldn’t help it. He was trying!

The Maia arched a carefully-shaped eyebrow at him. “Mean it.”

He nodded jerkily and closed his eyes, preparing himself mentally. Just like in Ost-in-edhil. Annatar was . . . Annatar was teasing him with the idea of not getting to go over a Valarin method if he wasn’t happy after. He didn’t actually mean it, he was just mocking Tyelpe’s need to be perfect in all things. This was like normal.

A hard lump of anxiety remained in his chest, making breathing and speaking more difficult than they should be, but he felt his body relaxing overall. This would be fine. He’d missed sleeping with Annatar after his last trip. This would be a nice distraction from the stresses of daily life.

He opened his eyes—remembering the Maia’s earlier instruction—and kissed Annatar again, wrapping his arms back around his neck. Softly, gently, but with a deeper edge that hinted at something like love. Just like he would if he hadn’t seen his partner for a long time.

The Maia reciprocated the kiss, hands on Tyelpe’s hips, but made no move to continue. Annatar had always preferred him to take charge.

Tyelpe pushed down one side of Annatar’s robes, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses down his neck and shoulder. He sucked on one particular spot near the hollow of his neck and the Maia moaned, making him hide a smile against his neck. He’d always liked making him lose control. Knowing he could still, in some small way, do it now helped.

He fumbled with the clasps on Annatar’s outer layers, mentally cursing their difficulty. The longer it took the more time he had to think and, well, he couldn’t enjoy this while thinking as an active participant. It just hurt. At least while Sauron manipulated his body to his desires he could ignore the self-loathing under his automatic reactions.

The last clasp gave way and he shoved the robes off, leaning back on his heels to pull it completely off. The Maia, being surprisingly helpful, pulled his tunic off without having to be asked. Thankfully. Tyelpe wasn’t sure how he’d even start that request.(Sauron would probably make him do it himself for daring to suggest it)

He shuffled around Annatar to kneel behind him, pressing up against his back and sweeping Annatar’s hair over his shoulders to get a better view of what he had to work with. The Maia was just . . . so clean. Tyelpe’s hands looked absolutely disgusting in comparison, nails broken and grimy after months of captivity. There was still dry blood under one them. The rest of his body wasn’t much better, scraped up and scarred after being chained without any form of coverings.

Long, thin fingers started to massage Annatar’s back. His mouth followed soon after, kissing, sucking, and licking long strips down to the small of Annatar’s back after his hands had removed any tension from the muscles. Annatar sighed, practically melting under Tyelpe’s efforts. He’d always been good at this. At anything related to pleasing his partners, really. It was his favorite.

But Tyelpe couldn’t enjoy it like this.

He pulled back from Annatar and swallowed roughly. His voice didn’t want to work—absolute dread silencing him—so he reached out and brushed his fëa against the Maia’s as quickly as he could and still get his request across. The Maia turned, eyes alight with the sheer malice that betrayed the true creature beneath the beauty, and brushed a kiss against Tyelpe’s forehead as he stood up.

“Good boy.”

Tyelpe wanted to throw up.

Hands shaking, he sat up on his knees and pressed a kiss above Annatar’s waistband, even as he started undoing the ties to his breeches. It took entirely too long for his sanity. He kept fumbling the laces, nervousness worsened by the knowledge of what was going to come and Sauron’s eyes boring into him. He couldn’t—he couldn’t keep putting this off. Better to do it on his own terms than let Sauron decide it for him. Maybe it would be better.

Mouth absolutely dry, he pulled down Annatar’s breeches and was immediately confronted by his—completely hard—length. He didn’t—he didn’t want to—Tyelpe wrapped his hand around the base, giving Annatar a few quick strokes, before wrapping his lips around his cock and sucking.

He tasted like Annatar. That, of all things, hadn’t changed and it made it significantly easier to bob his head up and down, licking at Annatar’s cock one moment and sucking the next. This was . . . this was better. He didn’t have to look at his face, at the eyes that promised only destruction set in a face he loved. Annatar was gone, he’d known Annatar was gone. But it was nice to pretend otherwise.

Tyelpe could feel himself getting hard again, even though Annatar hadn’t touched him since the very beginning. Focusing solely on the taste and scent of Annatar, on the little hip movements that proved he was starting to loose his vaunted control, helped him relax and enjoy himself in a way none of his earlier thoughts had. The Maia he loved might be gone—might never have truly existed—but this was the absolute closest he could get to forgetting it and . . . he couldn’t not appreciate it, in some twisted way.

He hated all of this, because it was Sauron, but he enjoyed it, because it was Annatar.

Fingers carded through his hair, playing with the silver strands, before pulling him off of Annatar’s cock. Tyelpe—lips red, spit trailing down his chin, and eyes watering with unshed tears—looked up into Annatar’s face. No, Sauron’s. Annatar’s? The Maia’s face blurred, almost a mixture between the two, with something . . . different shining through. But that smile was all Annatar. It looked so proud of him. He didn’t know what to do with that.

“Lie down, pet,” the Maia ordered, his voice silky smooth to Tyelpe’s ears. Persuasive. Not near the horror of earlier, but not Annatar’s gentility either.

Tyelpe hesitated—he didn’t want to obey his Enemy, not in this—but laid down on the stone floor, earning another smile. Not-Annatar kneeled next to him, fingers gently caressing his lips in a direct contradiction of earlier. Three entered his mouth and he swirled his tongue around them without having to be told. Not-Annatar stroked his hair and he struggled not to cry, tears welling up to make his vision swim.

“You’re doing such a good job,” he told him conversationally, one hand reaching to stroke Tyelpe’s arousal while the other circled his hole. Almost without conscious recognition, Tyelpe spread his legs wider and pushed up into his hand. “It took you so long to recover from that . . . hiccup earlier that I thought you weren’t going to, but I must say, I’m impressed. It seems all my work on you wasn’t a complete waste.”

One finger penetrated him and he gasped, surprised by the sensation after years without. The Maia watched him almost clinically. And then he added another finger, and the third soon after.

Tyelpe moaned, squirming on the fingers. The stretch felt so good. Anything more would be . . . a lot, especially with how fast the Maia was going, but he knew it would come. That was how this worked. He didn’t—he didn’t want to be fucked by his Enemy, to have the Enemy watch him come from his cock in him and his hands around his length, but apparently this had been happening for decades anyway. What did once more make a difference? The only real change was Sauron no longer pretending to be anything but.

“You make such an obedient pet, Tyelperinquar. No matter how much you dislike an idea, you always end up exceeding my expectations in it.” A tear slid down Tyelpe’s face at the praise, at how it sounded exactly like how Annatar phrased things only worse.

Not-Annatar removed his fingers, sheathing himself completely in Tyelpe the next second in one unexpected thrust. Tyelpe cried out at the pain, making the Maia smile. That wasn’t—it hurt so much. He’d been stretched, but not enough for something so rough.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, the pain finally breaking his tenuous control, and the Maia leaned down to lick them off even as he pulled out and thrust again. Tyelpe reacted instinctively. His fëa reached out to his partner, for reassurance and to show them how he hurt, and Sauron overwhelmed him.

“Say my name,” he ordered, staying still with a hand gripping Tyelpe’s cock just tightly enough to hint at pain. The subtext was clear. Disagree, and this would only hurt. Agree and get pleasure alongside the humiliation and pain.

“Mairon!”


End file.
